


Be Kind To Yourself

by Sibir



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), me beating up Wanda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sibir/pseuds/Sibir
Summary: [Wanda-centric Infinity War alt ending] Wanda's remarkable feat against Thanos leaves her with crushed arms and stroke-like symptoms. She feels unworthy of the gratitude and medical care from Wakanda, because what hurts her the most, still, was guilt. Always the guilt.





	1. Force

**Author's Note:**

> Medical content in this fic comes from my experience with working in ER, where stroke patients and treatments abound. I wanted to explore not only another ending, but the limits and consequences to Wanda's abilities. Med student me went "yeah she'd have a brain bleed under enough mental strain, or something like that."

A Pyrrhic victory. A victory that came at great cost. A cost that defined defeat. In this grand battle waged on the lives of countless many, threatening the very fabric of existence, Wanda did not know how the rest of the universe felt about it. She only knew of the Pyrrhic victory she had earned—the tears hot down her cheeks, one hand tearing Vision apart, the other hand holding back Thanos, his lethal array of Infinity Stones, and another hand wrenching her heart into a bloody pulp. She grit her teeth and never caved in, despite the pain that made her want to curl up and scream herself hoarse. Instead she poured every ounce of her will into every fiber of her being, to save the universe at the cost of yet another loved one she would lose.

Time. All she had wanted was time. She and Vision had begged for it, clung to it, scraping for every last shred of precious moments together, but they came away empty-handed. She never had the time. But she had power.

"It has to be you," he had said. So she did it.

Wanda lost all feeling to her hands, couldn't feel them drop to her sides like limp puppets. Blood seeped from her nose, filled its iron tang on her tongue, and she saw red. And, through that bloody film, saw Thor descending down a thunderbolt radiating vengeance. The god of thunder hurled a great axe into Thanos's neck. Did a head tumble down? Wanda couldn't tell. The last thing she saw was Vision, what was left of him. Remains of her own doing. Her world faded to black.

Thor's shout of triumph quickly turned into a cry of alarm. He pushed aside Thanos's headless body and ran over to Wanda, who was sprawled face-down on the forest floor. Okoye and T'Challa, the fastest to shake off the daze from their jabs at Thanos, joined his side. Together, with care, they rolled over Wanda to her back, and one look at her made the king of Wakanda shake his head grimly. "She needs medical attention. Quickly!"

Okoye called her fellow guards for assistance, some helping Natasha, Bucky, and Steve to their feet, others trying to free Bruce from the rock face, and the rest assisting Okoye in whisking Wanda back to the palace as fast as they could. The battle on the plains continued, with many of the savage mindless creatures still flailing and snarling. The Wakandan warriors made quick work of their enemies, defending the tribal grounds they held dear and proclaimed forever.

"I will lead the fight with them," T'Challa called to Okoye. "Take Miss Maximoff to my sister!" He unsheathed his claws and threw himself back into the fray. Thor, Bruce, and Bucky broke away from the group to join him, while Steve and Natasha remained by Wanda's side. No words were exchanged between the two. Both understood their feelings of obligation towards their fellow Avenger they called a kid, and neither shamed the other for it.

At the palace, Shuri could barely catch her breath from a brush with death, but the sight of Wanda carried by the guards made her utter an oath her mother would scold her for.

Shuri ran the scans and readings as soon as Wanda's back touched the operating table. Steve and Natasha, who had never flagged behind the running guards, hovered over the princess with worry etched on their faces.

"What's going on? What do the scans say?" Natasha asked.

"Multiple clots and hemorrhages in her brain. Even more fractures from both forearms down."

The X-rays triggered a collective sharp gasp. No one needed a medical degree to understand the amount of damage Wanda had sustained. Her arms were a complete mess, as if a spider spun webs along the bones, then someone rolled a bowling ball to knock those bones into shards. Her head did not fare much better. Red lights signifying clots flashed like sirens throughout the brain imaging.

"How did this happen?" Shuri asked in disbelief.

"She destroyed a stone with one hand and contained five with the other," Okoye murmured.

The princess shared her awe. "That put a huge amount of strain on her body. I had never seen anything like this."

Neither had Okoye. She had the best view of the fight. After seeing everyone else being tossed aside like toys, she still could not believe that this unassuming young woman, prone on the table before Shuri, held such power against the mad Titan.

"What can you do, Your Highness?" Natasha asked.

"Anything I can to minimize the brain damage. And repair the fractures, of course." She called for more medical personnel to help her and shooed away anyone else who would just stand around and get in the way. Steve made no objections to the princess nearly half his height.

He blew a gusty sigh and brandished his new shield. "Now that Wanda's in good hands, I'm going back out there."

"So will I," Okoye said with a tightened grip of her spear.

"I'll cover Shuri and Wanda, in case any of those things make it up here," Natasha offered.

Steve put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen, but I know you got their backs."

Once the captain and Wakandan general sprinted out the doors, Natasha swayed from the weight of exhaustion dropped on her. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned her back against the wall. Blood pounded in her skull. Anything from Shuri and the Wakandan physicians blurred into an unintelligible buzz in her ears. Deep down she was glad she made a good call not to jump back out there. This world, this universe, was much too big for her. What kind of sick reality made it possible to wipe out half of the universe with a snap of one's fingers?

"None of this makes sense," she muttered to herself, thinking of Clint.

Her part in this huge, crazy universe was small, but she would do her best to play it well. Thinking of the men and women working to save Wanda, Natasha straightened despite the protest of her muscles and kept an eye out, all the while hoping for the best. She was trained, however, to also expect the worst. Half of the universe being wiped out was no longer on the table…but this…would she be ready for losing one of her own? Would any of the Avengers? She could not answer that question.


	2. Numb

Something pressed against Wanda's back, arms and legs. It pricked at the back of her scalp. It stabbed through her hands as she pushed herself up with a groan. She looked down. Savannah grass. She looked up. Shades of blue, purple, and pink slowly bobbed and glowed in the night sky above. Where was she? Still in Wakanda? Or dead? It was quiet...too quiet. Her breaths, the only sounds she heard, were uncomfortably loud. Wanda looked around, but besides the thin acacia trees, she saw no one else, nothing else. Not even signs of the great battle she swore she thought had raged here.

Something rustled in the treetops, and her blood ran cold. Odd shapes huddled and perched on the branches. Even as they were shrouded in shadow, the stench of their scorched flesh made her shudder. Their eyes, white, wide, and unblinking, fixed on her like spotlights. Eleven people. Eleven Wakandans. A man pointed a skeletal finger at her.

"You," he groaned. "You murderer."

Wanda took several steps back. "No, I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. I-"

"You will burn," a woman hissed. "Like the rest of us."

Wanda turned tail and bolted, but the dead were somehow faster, turning into panthers as they pounced on her. She fell hard onto the ground. Claws dug into her back. Savannah grass shot up like pins into her nose and eyes, then her mouth as she screamed. Her pleas and apologies went unheard, as they had many times before. She tried to hold back the wrathful cats with her hands, but they were limp and useless. The dead Wakandans snarled, pulling back lips to bare fangs, and tore into her flesh. Their bites burned; soon her whole body was set on fire and agony.

"Vis," she cried out.

But he wouldn't hear her. He wouldn't come to her rescue. He was gone. She had killed him, just as she had killed these Wakandans tearing her apart. They ripped into her belly in a frenzy, their teeth and claws sending lances of pain deep into her. Despair washed over her fear, and Wanda stopped struggling. Maybe that was the right thing to do. She deserved to be punished for her crime. The grass and trees were ablaze now. The fire climbed and roared so high that she no longer saw the sky. She must be dead after all, where the eleven Wakandans could finally exact their revenge. Where her mother, father, Pietro, and Vision were nowhere to be found. They were in a better place. She was in hell.

Her shredded stomach hurt the most. Wanda shut her eyes so tightly that she saw white stars, but the pain became too much and her eyes flew open. The inferno was gone. Instead she saw overhead lights and flickering holograms. To her right, Shuri stiffened in shock. Wanda's head throbbed, and most of all her stomach felt horrible. It twisted and lurched, made her jerk her head to one side and vomit.

Shuri acted quickly, recovering from her surprise and grabbed a basin to catch most of the mess. She leaned in close to tell Wanda something. The princess had to be speaking Wakandan. Wanda couldn't understand a word out of her mouth. Steve ran over to Shuri's side and he was next to talk, but all Wanda could understand was the concern on his face. His lips moved, but she couldn't understand him, either.

More people quickly crowded into her vision. Natasha, Thor, Bruce, Sam...Everyone spoke the same gibberish.

Panic made her heart race. She wanted to move. Why couldn't she? Some kind of stretched weight restrained her to the bed. She couldn't even feel or flex her fingers. What was going on?

Shuri gestured to a nurse, who injected something into Wanda's neck. It stung, and soon her world faded to black once more.

#

Wanda heard her name. Again, and again. Her eyes fluttered open. The faces of her friends and comrades hovered over her, sharpening the more she blinked. This time she heard them properly. Things made more sense now. She didn't know what to say in return.

"Miss Maximoff?" Shuri called.

"You Highness?" she rasped.

The princess blew a sigh of relief. "Thanks be to Bast, she understands."

"What happened?" Wanda mumbled.

Uncomfortable glances were passed around, and all were ultimately aimed at Shuri. She drew in a deep breath then explained, slowly and gently: "Thanos is defeated. What you did to make that possible was astounding. But your wounds...the wounds you've sustained are very serious. Both of your arms are broken with open fractures throughout. You also had a hemorrhagic stroke."

That left Wanda dumbfounded. "I...what?"

"The first time you woke up, I believe you had a period of aphasia. You could not understand what any of us were saying. You also vomited blood, if you remember. Well, vomit streaked with blood, to be exact. Not good, of course, but better than worse. It's likely from the nosebleed that collected in the back of your throat. If you were really vomiting blood, then we'd worry about a hole in your stomach, or something like that. We put you to sleep again so we could do more extensive operations on your arms and administer more clot busters to repair the damage to your brain." Shuri quickly scanned the floating chart of vitals and gave Wanda a smile. "The first round of medicine was successful, I think. Now that you're awake and you can hear me, I'd like to do an NIH scale."

"A what?"

"To check for neurological deficits. Relax, you don't have to do a thing." Shuri turned the bed into a recliner with a keystroke. Wanda had no choice but to lie still, since she was still restrained. "I apologize for binding your arms," the princess went on. "but it's for your own safety. They must stay still so the fractures can heal." She stepped away from the bedside to stand directly across from Wanda. "The questions I'll ask will seem strange, but just follow along, all right?"

"Okay." Wanda suddenly felt self-conscious, with so many people studying her intensely.

Shuri ordered the young Avenger to stick out her tongue, wiggle it side to side, raise her eyebrows as if she was surprised, scrunch them as if she was mad.

Shuri then stroked Wanda's face from temple to chin. "Can you feel me touching both sides?"

"My left…I can't feel my left cheek."

Worry crossed Shuri's face. "Smile as wide as you can."

Wanda tried to comply, but her smile came out crooked, the right corner of her lips pushing up her cheekbones while the other corner did not even twitch. Her heart raced as she started to panic again. "Your highness, what's wrong with me?"

"The scale results could be worse, but they're still somewhat high. You have left-sided deficit. That facial droop's the most telling sign."

"Is the damage permanent?" T'Challa asked his sister. "Is there anything we can do?"

"We'll give her more blood-thinners. Fortunately her aphasia went away, so there's hope that we can fix this, too." Wanda saw Shuri reach out to put a hand on her shoulder, but couldn't feel it. "We pumped in a lot of sedatives and painkillers. You must feel sick. Would you like something for nausea?"

Wanda remembered how badly her stomach had churned. "Yes, please."

Wakandan technology made it possible to have access to anything in short order, including some things as simple as pills and a cup of water. Shuri helped Wanda take the pills by mouth.

"Let them dissolve under your tongue. You'll feel better soon." Shuri stepped away from the bed. "Excuse me, there are other pressing matters I must see to."

"Vision," Wanda blurted out, but only to stop Shuri in her tracks and make her stay around for a bit longer. "I'm sorry...Vision...is he...? Did you...?" Her heart sank as Shuri bit on her bottom lip and couldn't meet her eyes.

"I was unable to complete the process," the princess replied. "I will work with what I have saved. But, Miss Maximoff...I can't guarantee..."

A lump grew in Wanda's throat and she fought to swallow it down. She felt foolish for clinging on to a shred of hope. All she could say was, "Thank you for trying."

Shuri left the room on that regretful note and the Avengers remained, but suddenly Wanda didn't want them around any more.

"I'd like to be alone," she whispered. "Please."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, and stepped forward as if to try comforting her, but met her wet eyes, thought twice and gently ushered the others out. T'Challa made the same gestures to his subjects. Once in complete solitude, Wanda let the tears fall. Grief and shame welled in her like a sickening wave, despite the pills she just took. She didn't want her friends to see how pathetic she looked when she couldn't even lift her hands to hide her tears or wipe them away.

Wanda watched from the window to her right how the sun set in Wakanda, how its warm light bathed the plains and made patterns dance on the glass, but its famous beauty was lost on her. Night would come soon and she felt sick and exhausted, but she feared going back to sleep again. The dead would come back to haunt her. She had been prickling with discomfort ever since she set foot in Wakanda, and Vision knew the reason better than anyone else. She couldn't shake off the guilt. What right did she have to be here, when the eleven Wakandans who died in Nigeria never made it home alive?

The dead frequented her dreams, twisted them into nightmares, made her wake up screaming. Vision always used to stay by her side, lying in bed with her though he didn't need the sleep. He would kiss at her tears and whisper comforting words into her ear. He couldn't chase away the nightmares, but at least he would be with her to fight them. Now she was left alone, half of her body numb and broken. She would gladly break her arms again if it meant getting Vision back. She hated Thanos, but what good did it do now to hate the dead?

Most of all, she hated herself.


	3. Life

When Wanda wasn't submerged in a sea of pain, she drowned under an ocean of nausea. She had to make do with bland meals, even if that meant missing out on the flavors of Wakandan cuisine, so she could keep something down in her stomach. Days and nights dragged on miserably. She couldn't fathom what she would have felt without her left-sided numbness and the amount of medication the nurses gave her. She had seen the X-rays of her mangled arms, though she felt as if her skull had cracked and caved in, as well. She could not even brave through the headaches by clenching her teeth. That would just make it worse.

"How could I get a stroke?" she asked Steve. She'd been wondering for days. "I thought that's usually a problem with old people." She shot him an apologetic look. "No offense."

"None taken." He folded his arms across his broad chest. "I was confused, too. But as Princess Shuri and the other doctors had put it, your powers are mind-based, so when you pushed your powers to their limit, you must have pushed them so much that the blood in your brain formed clots. That's how you get a stroke."

Hearing this made her feel dazed. "I've gotten headaches if I lift something too heavy, but I've never had something like this."

"You've never had to destroy an Infinity Stone before, _and_ hold back a guy holding five more. But you did. Honestly, we're amazed that you survived at all."

She couldn't quite believe it herself. Though she underwent training with Steve and Natasha prior to her debut as an Avenger, they focused more on combat tactics and had never dwelled much on testing the limits of her power output. They didn't know what would happen if she did, and they had feared the consequences.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Steve asked. "Want something to eat? I can bring you lunch."

Wanda shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

The captain reluctantly made his way out. "Okay, but make sure to eat something later."

"Yes, sir." She didn't like to make him worry, but she really did not have an appetite lately. Vision would try to cook her something during times like this. He'd been working hard on perfecting Sokovian paprikash just for her. Now she would never enjoy his cooking again. She settled for yet another pill to fight back the nausea. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

The window of her room provided a generous, sweeping view of the former battleground, where she would watch the other Avengers help clean up the carnage and debris. One morning, Thor swooped up to her room with a great leap and a flash of lightning, coming in through the balcony.

"Good morning, Wanda. How are you feeling?"

"Could be better," she said with a wince. Seeing him with that new axe forced upon her an unpleasant image of him pounding her head with it, over and over. "The painkillers are wearing off," she groaned.

"I'll get them for you." Since his arrival, he had quickly mastered how to use the technology. With deft taps of his fingers he brought up the medication and helped her take them, tipping the glass of water gently between her lips.

She muttered thanks when he finished. Sometimes she forgot that Thor was more than a mystic figure from forgotten times. He was certainly not the only Avenger to assist her in simple things on account of her broken arms. Without her hands, everything seemed so much more difficult to accomplish. Even with voice-activated Wakandan amenities, eating, drinking, changing clothes, and so on provided daily challenges for her to overcome.

Wanda gestured to the window with a turn of her head. "How are things going down there?"

"The plains stink to high heaven from the blood of those creatures, but we're making good progress with disposing their bodies." The king of Asgard gave her a small smile. "I wish you can meet my new comrades. They call themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy."

"I've seen them from the window." Wanda figured that he must be talking about that walking tree, and that raccoon toting a gun almost his own size.

Thor hefted the Stormbreaker. "Thanks to their help, I forged a weapon strong enough to kill Thanos." He should be glowing with victory when he said that, but something etched on his face seemed to mirror her own fatigue and pain. Thanos's defeat came at a great price for him, too. She sensed that.

"You lost someone to this war," Wanda murmured.

He pinched his eyes shut, then his voice came out thick and hoarse. "Thanos murdered half of my people. And my brother."

"I…I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. About Vision, I mean."

An unseen hand seized her throat and she struggled to draw in a breath. Thor approached her bedside and rested his large, calloused hand behind her neck. Wanda didn't know what else to say; neither did he. For a few moments they shared the grief, an unspoken understanding. Finally he drew his hand back and stepped away to the balcony.

"I have to go. The Wakandans need my help burning the carcasses, and lightning does the job quite well. Take care, Wanda."

Her throat still tight, she couldn't reply. Wanda was about to wave good-bye when she realized that she couldn't. Both her arms looked twice as thick and stiff with the casts around them.

Her left-sided numbness came with a perk, at least. She didn't need anesthesia when the surgeon performed repairs to her left arm. The advanced nature of those procedures amazed her. The measures were so minimally invasive, on such a nanoscopic level, that her casts didn't need to be removed, let alone her skin being cut open with the standard scalpel. Remote controlled nanobots inside her arm pieced together the fractures, teeming and coordinating through the labyrinth of blood, muscle, and bones like a colony of ants. But even this could not piece together her broken, aching heart. Nothing could be done for that.

The numbness persisted for several days, despite the blood-thinners. When Shuri came for routine neurological evaluations, T'Challa and Okoye often accompanied her.

"You still can't feel me touching your left cheek?" Shuri asked.

"No, not at all." Vision was that half of her torn away by the war, and when he left, so did any feeling to her left side, it seemed.

"We will continue administering the same dosage. They'll work…they just need time."

"If I may add, Your Highness, I saw how she held off Thanos with her left hand," Okoye said. "Thanos pushed against her, while the android destroyed by her right hand did not resist her power. The strain to her left seemed much greater than to her right. That could explain the damage to her left side, while sensation to her right remains intact."

That android had a name, and he loved her. He was not just destroyed. He was killed. Okoye probably meant no offense, but the detached way she talked about Vision, as if she was not aware of how much he meant to Wanda, made the young Avenger tense and furrow her brow. The general was sharp, and upon noticing the reaction, she softened the hard mask of her face and lowered her gaze.

T'Challa touched his fingers to his chin. "That's a reasonable observation, Okoye. Our doctors have never dealt with injuries from fighting against Infinity Stones, so we must proceed with caution." When he turned to Wanda, she found it hard to meet the intensity of his eyes, despite the gentle way he had always addressed her. "Miss Maximoff, will you be all right with staying here in Wakanda until you are fully recovered? My sister does not feel comfortable with releasing you to undergo care elsewhere. I would not, either. Not when we have the best tools at our disposal to help you heal."

In all honesty, Wanda wanted to leave. She had come with her comrades to Wakanda hoping for a short stay. She certainly did not expect to be the focus of their efforts and generosity. Their time would be better spent caring for their own people and restoring their land, but here she had to go winding up in a huge, broken mess. A broken white girl for them to fix.

Wanda shook her head at herself, despite the dull, throbbing ache against her skull. "I'm so sorry for the trouble-"

"You are no trouble at all," Shuri cut in. "You played a big part in saving hundreds, thousands of us from Thanos. This is the least we can do for you. I have no problems with continuing to care for you until your arms have healed and all the stroke symptoms have resolved."

"You are not a burden to us, I assure you," T'Challa said with a lift of his hand. "We would just like to know if there's anything we can do to make your stay here more comfortable."

Wanda wanted to admit what she had been holding in and suffering from all this time: the nightmares their medicine could not fix.

"If you ever get the chance to have an audience with the king, tell him how you feel, as you had done with me," Vision once said to her.

But before the Black Panther, his sister, and Wakanda's fiercest general, with the three standing over her while she laid prone in bed, Wanda could not bring herself to open up to them. Fear got the best of her, and Wanda bowed her head in deference. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, I'm very grateful for everything you've done so far. I'll go along with whatever you think is best for me."

Shuri smiled and nodded at that. "Just a few more surgeries, some rest, and we can work on getting those arms of yours moving."

Wanda wished she could share the princess's optimism. She had begun to accept the damage she had taken from the fight, to bear with it for the rest of her life.

Shame at herself overwhelmed her as the three left. "I'm sorry, Vis," she said softly. "I couldn't do it."

The nightmares would not stop. In fact, they grew worse in Wakanda than anywhere else. They assaulted her with unrelenting ferocity, the dead always finding a way and giving her no mercy as they tore her into pieces. She would wake up intact, in cold sweats, her throat hoarse from crying.

"It's the pain," she would say to Shuri or a nurse. That was the excuse she kept telling them. Insomnia hampered the road to recovery. Before drifting off into sleep every night, she tried hard to resurface memories of sharing those vulnerable moments with Vision. She tried to imagine him by her side, and that comforted her a bit.

Instead of returning to the compound in America, the Avengers remained with her in Wakanda. Tony returned to Earth, bringing along a kid who called himself Spider-Man, a magician named Dr. Strange, and the rest of the Guardians. They, like Wanda, came away battered from a fight with Thanos, but didn't have to be hospitalized like her. The Guardians of the Galaxy were particularly curious with meeting the woman who held her own against the Mad Titan. They entered her room to make introductions.

"This is her?" The raccoon named Rocket exclaimed. "I thought she would look more impressive."

Peter Quill aimed a kick at his striped tail. "Hey, that's rude."

Groot drew close to Wanda's bedside and said, "I am Groot."

She nodded at him. "…I am Wanda Maximoff."

"Maximoff from Sokovia, you have my highest respect for standing against Thanos," the warrior called Drax declared. "In my homeworld, we would mark you from head to toe with tattoos in honor of your strength and bravery."

Once again, Wanda struggled for words; fortunately Peter rolled his eyes at Drax. "I don't think that's necessary. Does it look like she wants tattoos? Wanda only let us in to be nice, I bet. Come on guys, she looks tired. Let's leave her alone and let her rest."

Wanda saw in Peter's eyes the same pain in Thor's. Later, she found out from Tony how Peter had lost a loved one to the terrible making of the Soul Stone. Wanda wanted to reach out to Peter and offer some words of comfort. Even if she could, what would she say? She had no way to console herself.

As for Dr. Strange, he took a keen interest in the operations she went through. He had been a surgeon, after all. Since Wakanda recently opened its doors to the world, the possibility of the nation sharing its medical advances made the magician doctor very excited. Wanda had no doubt that he was quite intelligent without being arrogant, since he only observed the Wakandan physicians as they worked and he listened to them with respect. He was especially impressed with Shuri. With regards to Wanda, however, he couldn't get much of a conversation out of her. He pressed her to learn more about the Mind Stone, and her time with it. But she was not the same as Dr. Strange, who guarded the Time Stone. She had been more than a guardian for Vision. The doctor wouldn't understand.

Repairs to damage in the city were nearly done, and the battleground was cleared, yet the Avengers stayed. Everyone expressed hopes for Wanda's recovery so she could go back together with them. She felt like the last thing to be fixed here. The longest to get her act together. Maybe she would never truly heal.

Honestly, there were times she wished that her comrades and the Wakandans had thought of her beyond saving, and left her to die on the battleground. But, as these dark thoughts crossed her mind, she could hear Vision gently reprimanding her.

"Wanda, life is a gift. One that's easily taken for granted, but a gift nonetheless. I see so much beauty and promise in something I could never really have. Please don't throw your life away. It's worth living."

"But is life worth living without you, Vis?" she murmured. He wasn't there to answer.

#

The fractures sealed shut, her casts were removed, and Wanda underwent the Herculean task of regaining function in her arms. Shuri urged her to start small, starting with OK signs, thumbs up, and flexes of her fingers before she could move on to grasping objects. Wanda's fingers were sore and stiff from days of complete immobility.

"Try your hardest not to use telekinesis," the princess said in a firm voice, and tapped at her temple. "We cleared out the clots, but this part still needs to recover. We can't risk any more damage to the brain tissue."

Wanda sighed. "Don't worry, your highness, I have too many headaches to think about moving things with my mind, anyway."

She didn't know if she could even use her powers again. If the Mind Stone was destroyed, did her powers go with it? She was not keen on finding out soon.

Steve and Natasha checked on her during lunch time, and whoever cooked the meal had poured too much stew. As Natasha handled the bowl and spoon to help Wanda eat, fat drops of stew sloshed over the bowl's rim to splash on her.

"Ow!" Wanda jerked back her left hand. Wait…her left?

Steve's eyes widened. "You felt that?"

"Your hand moved," Natasha exclaimed, then she quickly added, "Sorry about the spill." She dabbed at Wanda's hand with a napkin. Wanda felt every press against her skin, and each press sent a thrill into her chest, made her heart lift a little. She hadn't been imagining it, after all. The feelings were real.

"I'm going to tell the princess." Steve headed for the hall with a big grin. "She'd love to hear about this."

Wanda made small, slow blooming flowers with her left hand, flexing her fingers in and out, and for the first time in days, a full smile spread on her face. Life seemed to seep back into her dead left side.


	4. Claws

"Hard as it might seem, appreciate even the pain," Vision once said. "That's how you know you're still alive."

Wanda felt the pain, all right, now that feelings and sensations, the good and the bad, crept back into her left side. With the pain came restlessness. She had been itching to get out of bed and move around. Rhodey acted as her primary physical therapist. After all, he knew better than anyone in the Avengers what it felt like to lose feeling and function of half of a body for some time.

"Baby steps, Wanda," he would say. "Baaaby steps." He kept a gentle yet firm grip on her, linking his arms with hers, in case her left leg gave way and she fell over. Wanda's brow furrowed from the effort and concentration, her gaze trained at her legs and her upper body leaning on Rhodey for support.

"Come on," she mumbled to herself through gritted teeth. "Move, move."

Rhodey chuckled. "I know you want to feel like making progress, but push yourself too hard and you'll end up right back in bed. Like I said, baby steps."

Slowly and painfully, they made a round along the edges of her room before Wanda slumped back on her bed feeling like she ran a marathon. Every muscle throbbed and ached, but somehow it felt good. "Thanks," she said between pants. "I guess...this makes up for the time...at the airport...when you almost blew out my eardrums."

Rhodey gave her a wry smile. "That's a time I don't like to think about."

"None of us do."

"Hey."

Wanda and Rhodey jerked their heads up to see Tony at the door.

"I thought I'd find you here." Tony crossed his arms and frowned at Rhodey. "Where's my drinking buddy when I need him?"

The man called War Machine waved his hand at that. "Come on, Tony, Wanda needs me more than you do. Figured I could lend her a hand when she's going through the same debilitating crap I did."

"Yeah, no kidding." When Tony's gaze rested on Wanda, his face softened a bit. "That was amazing, what you did to Thanos back there. Wish I could have seen it. Up there on Titan, I fought with all I had, all the latest weaponry I developed and every trick in the book, and you know what I got out of him? A cut, and a drop of blood."

Rhodey shook his head. "You're lucky you came back in one piece, man."

"Damn right. That son of a bitch was no joke. But you," Tony jabbed a finger at Wanda. "And Thor...You and him saved half the universe from extinction. Debate's settled. You two are the strongest Avengers."

It took a lot for Tony, the Iron Man, co-leader of the Avengers, to subvert his own ego the size of a continent. Wanda knew that, and tried to acknowledge it, but stared down at her hands. "I don't feel strong," she whispered.

She wasn't fishing for compliments, or assurances of otherwise. She really felt empty and tired, far from feeling like the strongest Avenger. Maybe Tony was saying these things as his own way of trying to cheer her up, but nothing could lift her spirits now. Not since the first paprikash Vision had tried to make for her back in the compound.

Rhodey had assisted Wanda enough times to know without her saying anything when she wanted to be alone. To Tony he motioned for the door with a pointed glance, and the two quietly left Wanda to the flood of memories that always took her off guard, hit her hard, drowned her in that raw ache whenever the slightest thought of Vision crossed her mind. She had given up her own happiness, a future with him, her only anchor to the world of the living after she lost her parents, brother, and country. For what? For half of the universe that would never care, or know? Even if they knew, they'd probably say that was expected of her, anyway. Being an Avenger felt like a cruel, thankless duty. Wanda didn't know if she would ever pick up that heavy mantle again, even if she could one day.

Shuri was thrilled that Wanda was making good progress of her recovery, but for all the intellect Wakanda's princess wielded, she had no idea of the hurt and guilt that remained wrenched deep in Wanda's chest, like the shrapnel near Tony's arc reactor. Wanda did not expect Shuri to know, anyway, because she couldn't admit it.

Before, Wanda used to feel discouraged and frustrated with every neurological evaluation, but since regaining her left side, she was able to squeeze Shuri's hands, push her limbs against gravity, and give back proper smiles on command.

"Excellent," Shuri exclaimed. "Motor strength and coordination are equal on both sides. These are very good signs, Miss Maximoff. Very good, indeed. I noticed that Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has been helping you get back in shape. Would you like me to send in more therapists to assist you, so that one man isn't doing all the work?"

"Rhodey-er, Rhodes is doing a great job on his own, and he doesn't seem to mind. He knows what it's like to be in my position."

"Oh, yes...my brother told me all about the 'civil war.'" Shuri tsked in disapproval. "He shouldn't have gotten caught up in that mess."

"None of us should have, Your Highness."

Shuri flipped away the charts and readings after perusing through them. "Speaking of civil wars...you're welcome to come down to the great dining hall and hear the retelling of the Wakandan rebellion tonight."

"Retelling?"

The princess winked at her. "It's more exciting than it sounds. Every story we tell comes with singing and dancing. You should come, if you can. We've never held shows for outsiders before."

As if Wanda needed further incentive to stretch out and move about some more. That evening, Natasha helped dress her into clothes fitting for a guest in royal presence, and Steve, being the gentleman, escorted her down to the dining hall. T'Challa had the Avengers and the Guardians seated near his table as guests of honor; soon the tabletops disappeared under plates and plates of food. Used to the small, simple meals in her room, Wanda ate little. Sitting next to Bucky, who had spent enough time under Wakanda's protection, she learned from him the appropriate words and gestures to politely decline helpings that otherwise would have made her very full and nauseated. She focused instead on watching the main spectacle: a spectacular display of color and movement from Wakandan warriors and shamans. Apparently, for the first time, they held this kind of performance in English, for the benefit of the outsiders. Tonight was about T'Challa's journey to be crowned king, the challenge to the throne, and his triumph. Everyone watching leaned forward at the edge of their seats, riveted by the songs and dances.

In the midst of all that, one thing stood out to Wanda. Okoye had singlehandedly turned the tides of the battle on Mount Bashenga, stopping further bloodshed among the splintered Wakandans as she faced down W'Kabi, with the speartip pointed inches from his face.

"Would you kill me, my love?" he had asked.

"For Wakanda? Without question."

Such fierce resolve, such loyalty to the greater good from Okoye, stirred something within Wanda that made her want to hide her face and crawl back into bed. Why couldn't she be like that? Why couldn't she be quick and strong enough to sacrifice anything and anyone she loved? Instead she dithered around and clung on to the notion of separating the stone from Vision. If only she had acted sooner...

Wanda's silence went unnoticed amid the resounding applause at the performance. But when Steve led her back into her room, he didn't miss how she slumped her shoulders and kept her head low.

"Are you okay, Wanda?"

She met his eyes and forced out a smile. "Just tired."

"That was a great retelling, wasn't it?" His arm, hooked around hers to provide support, felt broad and warm. "It's sad how the king had to deal with rifts in his family and his own country. I feel like we were almost intruding for getting a look at something so personal. But he wanted us to see that, and I'm glad we did. Wakanda's really opening up to the world."

The battle within Wanda continued, yet she was in no position to open up at all. She kept her thoughts to herself the whole way up the flights of stairs to her room, and only uttered a quiet thanks and goodnight to Steve.

That night she dreamed that Vision was pleading for her to destroy him, and she kept saying no, no, no, until Thanos himself came down and ripped the stone right out of Vision's head. His scream became hers.

Wanda woke up the next morning quite startled by the king striding into her room, flanked by his entourage of Dora Milaje guards.

"Y-Your Majesty, have I done something wrong?" Oh no, maybe they noticed she hadn't applauded as she should have last night...

"No, not at all," T'Challa said with a little laugh. "Actually, I came to ask if you are able to attend a special ceremony I will be holding tonight."

Did she really have an option? T'Challa did not elaborate on what kind of ceremony that might be, but Wanda saw no reason to refuse. "I...I feel well enough to go."

"Very good. You will be a very important part of the event. I'm happy to know that you can be there." Again, the king did not elaborate why, and left as quickly as he had come. Shortly after T'Challa's sudden arrival, Wanda ventured out and made her way into a drawing room where the Avengers liked to gather and relax when they weren't busy. She heard the word "ceremony" thrown around enough times in the conversation to figure that everyone knew about what would happen tomorrow. But not really.

"We're in the dark about it as much as you are," Bruce said to Wanda with a shrug.

"If we are invited by the king, we must look our best," Thor said. "That much I know."

"Should we go Wakandan traditional, or in our usual gear?" Natasha asked.

"I was told that either is fine, whatever we're comfortable with." Steve replied. "For me, it'll be the latter."

"I think it would be neat to put on the Wakandan robes," Sam said to Rhodey. "I mean, I don't know exactly where my ancestors came from, but it's still kind of a way to get back in touch with our roots."

Excitement and uncertainty colored their discussion, but in the end no one really knew for sure what would happen. As for Wanda, she grew more nervous as the sun climbed higher in the sky, than sank below the horizon. With the sun's descent, torches throughout the halls of the palace flickered to life and Wanda noticed that any Wakandan she passed by, even the doctors and nurses who had frequented her room, wore special-looking regalia that jingled with every step. In the drawing room, where she was told to meet with the other Avengers and Guardians, she noticed that Sam went out on his idea, after all, and Rhodey followed along. The two men looked quite dignified in flowing, colorful Wakandan robes. Next to them, suddenly Wanda felt improper in her long red coat and pants, boots, and arm bracers in black.

She was about to ask what they were going to do next, then a deep battle cry from down the hall made her jolt.

_"Maers-ha! Ya hu hu! Maers-ha! Ya hu hu!"_

M'Baku and his tribesmen marched in to flank the outsiders. Then he nodded at the Avengers and Guardians. "Warriors from the outside world, the king summons you to his court. Please follow me."

The Jabari tribe's entrance had cowed the Avengers and Guardians somewhat, and for some reason they quietly arranged themselves almost in single file by height. Being among the shortest, Wanda found herself behind Rocket, Groot, Natasha and the huge Jabari chieftain, who looked like he could snap her in two with his bare hands, without breaking a sweat. M'Baku seemed to loom menacingly over her, and seemed to notice her apprehension as he aimed a brief, assuring smile at Wanda before turning around to lead the assembly. The tribesmen maintained their flanking formation. Wanda tried her best to keep up. Though no one was pressed into a real military-like march, she was relieved that she didn't stumble or suddenly tip over. What would the king want of her and her comrades? Up ahead she heard the clank of armor and spears, and her heart pounded against her chest.

The Jabari tribe announced themselves again in their typical fashion, their cries echoing across the court that opened up before them. T'Challa sat on his throne, dark and impressive in his Black Panther armor, surrounded by his family and the elders. Warriors formed a wide ring around the court, as silent and solemn as their king. Then the newcomers disassembled. M'Baku ushered Thor and Wanda to break off from the rest of their group. The two Avengers shared a questioning glance but followed M'Baku nonetheless. Their comrades gave them the same expressions, but this was short-lived as T'Challa rose, prompting all eyes on him and the cross-armed salute from every Wakandan.

"My people, my family and friends, we are gathered here tonight to commemorate those who took part in the battle for our land, for our lives."

T'Challa nodded to a small group of Jabari tribesmen, who ushered some of the Avengers and Guardians forward.

"To Dr. Stephen Strange, Anthony Stark, Peter Quill, Drax, Mantis, Nebula, and Peter Parker, I give you arm bracers from the Jabari Tribe. You may not have fought on Wakandan soil, but I had heard that you stood against Thanos on his own homeworld, and I believe the stories. It would not sit well with me to let your efforts go unacknowledged. Please accept this hand-crafted Jabari wood and our gratitude."

Those being rewarded the extended their arms so the Jabari warriors could slip on the fur-lined bracers. Peter Parker bit down on his bottom lip to keep from bursting with happiness, and stared down in amazement at the white gorilla intricately carved into the wood of his bracer. Then they withdrew as warriors of the blue-clad Border Tribe came forth.

T'Challa went on, addressing the next group: "To Captain Steve Rogers, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Sam Wilson, Agent Natasha Romanoff, Dr. Bruce Banner, Rocket, and Groot, I bestow upon you robes from the Border Tribe. You acted as shields protecting our homeland, just as these robes protect our soldiers guarding the border."

The Avengers and Guardians, even the usually irreverent teenage Groot, bowed deeply as they received their gifts from the Border Tribe. There was an unspoken understanding among all of them over the magnitude of this recognition. Once the robes were draped over their shoulders, they rose to their feet.

M'Baku motioned for Thor and Wanda to step up next.

"Finally, to Thor Odinson and Wanda Maximoff, for your combined efforts to bring down the Mad Titan once and for all, I bestow upon you the greatest honor a king of Wakanda can give to a warrior: the panther claws." T'Challa motioned for Shuri and Okoye to present necklaces rimmed with gleaming, pointed silver, ones not much different from the claws set around the king's neck. "Once more, we are making history here. You are the first outsiders to ever receive this honor. Even among our people, rarely do the panther claws get to rest on a warrior's neck." Sympathy flickered in the Black Panther's eyes. "I understand that the two of you suffered great loss at the hands of Thanos. Despite that, you have demonstrated great strength and bravery worthy of the panther claws. Wear them with pride, my friends."

Wanda did not feel strong or brave, proud or honored. Instead she felt great shame. Okoye slipped the necklace around Thor, while Shuri did likewise for Wanda. The panther claws weighed heavily over her neck and chest, as if the claws dug into her skin. It almost choked her, made her want to rip them off. But she dared not. Not in front of the king and his people. Wanda said nothing and kept her head bowed, fighting back tears as Wakandans hailed her and Thor with a resounding show of hoots, chants, and spears drumming on the floor.

Wanda had no idea of what words they roared in unison, but she was glad she didn't know. She probably didn't deserve whatever praises and titles they shouted her way.

T'Challa eventually subdued this with a small lift of his hand. "I speak on behalf of all Wakandans of our deepest gratitude for your aid. We are fortunate to have such great warriors among us tonight."

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the court trembled from the cheers of all Wakandans. The Avengers and Guardians broke out into wide smiles and congratulated each other. Wanda wanted nothing more than to slip away unseen from the court, not in the mood for festivities. That proved impossible, as she received many friendly jostles and hugs and pats on the back and shoulders. She tried to meet everyone's eyes and return smiles, and finally came away feeling battered and bruised. Too tired to make it up to her room, Wanda sought refuge at a nearby balcony overlooking the city, and sank onto raised stone with shuddering pants.

She gingerly fingered at one of the many claws hanging from her neck, wincing as her thumb brushed against the sharp end. Now she wore three necklaces: one she removed from her mother's neck after their home buried half of her family, another she received from Pietro, and the latest a symbol of honor from Wakanda. It all felt heavy, so heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know exactly what the Jabari chant is. I tried to Google around for answers, because I really wanted to get it right. Apparently Winston Duke (actor for M'Baku) made up the words based on Igbo, so I wrote the closest approximation.


	5. Truth

Slowly and carefully, Wanda drew her knees up to her chest, folded her arms, and rested her chin on them. The breeze, cool and soft, tugged at the ends of her hair. It turned her necklaces into pendulums as they swung back and forth between her thighs and belly. Dwarfed under the vast canopy of stars that blazed above her, wrapped up in her solitude, and far away from the hubbub still going on inside, she felt very small and lonely.

"Miss Maximoff."

Wanda flinched, despite the gentle utterance of her name. She whirled around to find T'Challa standing just behind her.

"I'm sorry for startling you," he said. "This suit is designed to make me almost unseen and unheard. Sometimes I forget that."

Wanda's hand flitted up to her chest in an effort to catch her breath and collect herself. She could barely tell his frame and figure apart from the shadows, the night sky. Only the glint of claws around his neck, and the silver seams of vibranium along the armor, gave him away. His feet made no sound against the stone as he drew closer and settled down next to her with lithe, fluid motion. Truly a black panther, not just in name. She should have expected him to find her out here, after she tried to detach herself from the rest of her team and took no part in the celebration.

Wanda heard the clinks of armor and a spear; Okoye had followed closely behind T'Challa.

Still seated, he twisted around to acknowledge the general with a small wave of his hand. "There's no need for you to accompany me out here, Okoye. I would just like to speak with Miss Maximoff alone. Please attend to my sister."

"As you wish, my king." Okoye stepped away, giving the two one last sweeping glance before leaving them on the balcony.

Wanda ventured a request: "Please, just call me by my first name, Your Majesty." Being called Miss made her feel both very old and very young. She had grown up poor, and quickly without her parents, in the slums of Sokovia. She could never get used to formalities.

"Wanda, it is." Without the cat-like helmet masking his face, the king smiled at her. "She's very impressed with you. Okoye."

Wanda straightened up and blinked in surprise. "I...I wouldn't think so."

"It's true. I'll have you know that she is very difficult to impress, but your show of power on the battlefield saved her twice, and now you wear panther claws. She will not forget that in a hurry." T'Challa craned his neck back. "So, what do you think of Wakanda at night?"

"Beautiful," Wanda replied. "I had never seen so many bright stars in my life. Where I grew up, pollution always fogged up the sky. You'd be lucky to get a glimpse of just one star at Sokovia." What she couldn't tell him was that this was the very same sky in her nightmares, the last thing she saw before everything around her went up in flames. Wanda couldn't hold her gaze to the stars for long, and returned it to her feet.

"My sister told me that your symptoms have practically resolved, but to me you still look unwell."

Though he said this out of concern, to her the remark seemed laced with accusation, as if he was saying "Come on, Wanda, why the hell can't you get your shit together?" At least, that was the nasty little voice hissed in her head. She tensed, trying hard not to meet his eyes.

"Your body has been healing well enough. The doctors, nurses, and Shuri did a wonderful job seeing to that. But I sense that we still haven't done everything we could for you. There is something about you that our technology cannot detect and our medicine cannot treat. Something that you're keeping tucked away from everyone around you. We are made up of more than just bodies. We have our souls, as well. Your soul does not know peace. It's filled with unrest."

Wanda bit down on her bottom lip, trembling in her tight, balled up position.

"My sister tells me that you don't sleep well at night. You have said that it's from the pain. But I don't think it's pain from your fight against Thanos. It goes back further than him. It's something older, and deeper."

She squeezed her eyes shut. With the king's arrival, it seemed as if he had her cornered in the balcony. Like a cat with prey. Though she was in no shape to do so, she wanted to run away so she wouldn't have to hear him go on.

"I have seen grief, in all of its terrible glory, from this costly war. But there's something else in you that I have not seen in Thor, or in Peter Quill." T'Challa's voice dipped, as if he was talking more to himself now. "I think I have seen it before...yes, in Zuri, and in my father, for the wrongs they've done when they tried to do right."

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and a lump swelled in her throat. The king was terribly perceptive, wise beyond his years. He had her figured out, even when she hadn't had the courage to tell him for the longest time.

"Guilt. It's eating you alive. Be honest with me, Wanda. Is that it?"

At this, she burst into quiet sobs, ones that barely slipped through her lips but made her shoulders quiver uncontrollably and her chest ache. Wanda buried her face into her hands, feeling the warmth and wetness of tears on both of them.

To her surprise, he chuckled. When she looked up, the lift of his cheeks made his eyes crinkle merrily. "You know, I forgive you for tossing me into the jet bridge in Germany."

She didn't laugh, and slowly he reassumed a serious air. T'Challa had opened up the floodgates from within her, and the deluge swept her away in its release. In the midst of that tumult, she could almost hear Vision gently prompting her, "Tell him how you feel. Let it all out."

Wanda dashed at the tears with the back of her sleeve. Meanwhile T'Challa said nothing and waited as she struggled to compose herself, face him, and find the words. "The eleven Wakandans who were killed in Lagos...I am responsible for their deaths. Their blood is on my hands. Their voices follow me in my dreams. You are right, King T'Challa. I am guilty."

She did not expect forgiveness, and certainly didn't have the nerve to plead for it. No, just opening up in front of the king was enough of an obstacle for her to overcome.

"Wanda, look at me."

At his firm command, she complied. In his eyes, there was no trace of accusation she thought she had heard in his voice. Only sympathy, and compassion. "Being guilty is not the same as feeling guilty. Hard as it was for me to watch the deaths of my people, I came to believe that you and them were victims of being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm no victim," Wanda murmured. "I'm the one to blame. My lack of control had killed them."

T'Challa said nothing to that. How could he deny it? Finally, he said, "I could go back and forth with you all night arguing the contrary, but that wouldn't do much for either of us, I suspect. Whatever we may think of what had happened, the past is the past. That would never change. What we can do is what we say and think here and now." He paused, almost in contemplation, then went on, "My father had never given the Avengers an official pardon for the incident in Nigeria, did he?"

Wanda cringed as she remembered the former king's words, ringing with disappointment and condemnation through the TV: "Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all."

Up until that moment when the vest went off, she had been working seamlessly with Steve, Natasha, and Sam, executing maneuvers and neutralizing the threats as she had practiced so many times. Her team seemed well on their way to call it a victory. But in the end, everything fell apart. The last thing she heard that day had been the bomb, the inferno, the screams. All because of her. It had been so hard for Wanda to watch that, as well...not just the first time, but as her mind went against her will to play it over and over in her head ever since.

"Frankly, if King T'Chaka was here now, I'm not sure if he would give that pardon," T'Challa said. "But he is gone, and I am not my father." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Let the claws be a sign of forgiveness, then, from me to you."

Mingled shock and horror jolted through her. "No, I can't accept it." Wanda's reply came swiftly, and her response took him aback. "I...I couldn't refuse it at the ceremony, with so many watching. I didn't want to insult anyone, not after your people had done so much for me. But now you invite me to be honest..." She sucked in and let out a shaky breath. "Well, this is my honest answer. I'm not worthy to wear this gift." She forced herself to go on, to finally share with him the nightmares that kept her from getting any real rest. Even now, though she sat up wide awake to confide in T'Challa, the claws draped around her felt too much like the claws of dead Wakandans that squeezed at her neck and haunted her dreams. She had trouble distinguishing one from the other. They felt the same. They were tearing her apart. Eating her alive, as the king had put it.

As he was taking all of this in, T'Challa looked dismayed. "You have been through so much. You lost your mother and father...your brother and home...and the man you loved. I can't bring back what you had lost, but I wanted to recognize your strength with the highest honor a king could give." He tipped his chin to the ground, his brow furrowed. "How foolish of me. Instead I've caused you greater pain."

"You weren't being foolish," she insisted. "You don't have to be sorry for anything, King T'Challa. The medical care and attention I've had here is more than enough for me. That I can take." With heavy, trembling hands, Wanda lifted the necklace over her head. "But I...I can't take _this_. I'm so sorry."

"Wanda..."

"Please." Her plea ended with a waver. She could not bear the weight anymore, and wanted so badly for him to relieve her of the burden. But T'Challa did not reach out to take it. She let the claws rest on her lap, and let the tears fall.

The king said nothing for some time, perhaps at a loss for words, then he replied softly, "I bear you no ill will, hatred, or blame for the eleven who had died that day. Neither do their families, when I last spoke with them to offer condolences. I want you to know that. It's a comfort to them, at least, that their loved ones could be brought home to rest. We have a saying here in Wakanda: 'Let the dead remain buried.' Do you know why we are so adamant about needing a body to bury?"

She had heard about it, but she shook her head.

"When the body cannot rest, the soul will not be able to rest, either. It will wander forever, restless and without peace, in perpetual torment. My father went to his grave carrying the guilt from his brother's death. I do not want you to end up like him. Lay your guilt to rest, while you can. " His gaze lowered to the necklace on her lap. "No one before had ever declined wearing the claws, but if that's what will help give you peace of mind..."

Nearby, unbeknown to Wanda and T'Challa, Shuri and Okoye had been listening in on the entire conversation. The general was keeping the princess company, and the king had never ordered his sister to stay away. Shuri and Okoye remained still and quiet as statues in the hallway for some time. Then they seemed to jerk to life as they heard Wanda murmur a farewell, their only hint of T'Challa stepping back from the balcony in his soundless suit.

Heavy-hearted and unsmiling, Shuri and Okoye needed no explanation as they watched the king return. Clutched in his fist, the necklace of panther claws swayed with every step.


End file.
